Story of a dead man
by Orochi-Ne
Summary: Nico wasn't the only son of Hades to be born. His siblings were soldiers within the German army during World War II. This is one story that has long since been forgotten.
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N: Hello there. This fic has to be one of my personal favorites because it's before the PJO universe and seeing as how RR doesn't mention any of the demigods that died during the World Wars this fic gives me plenty of room to work. I hope all of you enjoy the lovely web I'm weaving.**_

**Story of a Dead Man**

_December 31, 1944_

Decker Ingram walked silently into a large cabaret with a scowl plastered onto his lips. The upper part of his face was covered by a pair of black goggles while his body was wrapped up tight in a black coat composed of griffon fur. A cold breath passed between his lips as he took a seat at the bar. Once he was seated, he removed his goggles to reveal a pair of dark chocolate eyes — the next thing to go was his coat, revealing the all black uniform he wore underneath. After he made sure that he had everything he would need for the upcoming journey he whistled for the bartender.

A large gentleman appeared in front of him with a beer mug in his hand; from the white apron the guy wore Decker could tell that he was the bartender. Of course the fact that he was standing behind the bar didn't hurt either. The bartender gave him a nod before speaking to him. "What'll it be?"

Decker fished around in his pocket before pulling out two gold drachmas. He met the bartender's gaze and could tell from the greedy expression on his place that gold wasn't something he received very often. "Whiskey and keep them coming." The chubby man took the money and disappeared to go and prepare the order.

After about five minutes of waiting, a glass of whiskey was placed in front of Decker and the juvenile demigod couldn't wait for the alcohol to reach his lips. He took a sip and was greeted by a familiar burning sensation as the whiskey made its way down his throat. Within a matter of seconds he was placing an empty glass back on the bar top and the bartender was passing him another glass. Once the warming feeling of alcohol was running through his body he closed his eyes and gave a peaceful sigh.

"Looks like someone can't handle their liquor."

Decker cracked his eyes open to find a girl standing beside him with a smile on her face. She had long brown hair and a pair of blue eyes that resembled pools of clear water. His eyes moved slowly over her body — normally he would've tried to imagine what she looked like without clothes but, seeing as how she was only wearing a pink boa, a bra and panties there wasn't much that he couldn't see. From her physique and clothing he guessed she was a dancer; she could have been just a regular mortal but something about her told him that she was a daughter of Aphrodite. To be completely honest he would've preferred the latter.

"I'm guessing that you like what you see. I'm Adele, daughter of Aphrodite," she said with a swivel of her hips.

Decker's brow slowly began to twitch — he had a _really _bad history of falling for children of love. He took another sip of his gin before glancing into her eyes. "I'm Decker."

Adele took a seat beside Decker and kicked her legs over into his lap. It took all the willpower Decker had not to look down at the perfect thigh that was resting on his person The daughter of Aphrodite couldn't help but to grin at the expression her prey wore on his face — this was her favorite part of the game she played with every man (and a few lucky women) that came into the cabaret. Once they were cornered she began showing off parts of her body that people found to be amazingly appealing.

"What's a guy like you doing in Berlin?"

"I just quit my old job and I'm looking for something new."

"_You didn't quit, you ran away._"

He took another sip of his whiskey and tried to ignore the annoying voice of his immortal stepmother that had a tendency to sound in his head. Persephone always chose to speak to him when he did something that she thought was wrong. It didn't matter how evil or morally corrupt what he did was as long as it pleased her she wouldn't say anything about it. She had recently gone on a crazy rampage about how he had decided to quit his old job and that he was disrespecting the House of Hades by not taking care of the family business or eradicating weak demigods.

"What exactly did you do at your old job?"

There was one part of him that didn't want to tell her because his job was horrible and most people were completely against his line of work. The other part of him, however, thought telling her would not be best because he had more than likely murdered thousands of her half-brothers and -sisters.

He sipped his drink before answering. "I don't think you'd want to know about my job. It's nothing compared to what you do." Once he finished his sentence his eyes wandered from his glass of whiskey to the thigh that rested in his lap. Damn it, why did her body have to be so appealing?

"Come on," Adele whined as she leaned closer to him. "_Tell me_." There was this strange power in her words that most people would've called charmspeaking but Adele called it being_ very_ persuasive.

Decker rolled his eyes and sighed before divulging his job information. "I was commander of the D.N.A."

Adele arched her eyebrow and searched her brain for something that would lead to answer of what the D.N.A was. After about five minutes of using her brain (which was something she didn't do very often) she gave up and decided to ask. "What exactly is that?"

Decker chuckled to himself; the name his older brother had chosen for the organization was simple and confusing at the same time. "The D.N.A is the Demigod Nazi Alliance."

The music that was playing within the cabaret seemed to quiet down and all eyes shifted onto Decker. His lips curled into a faint grin — no matter where he went the mention of Nazis always seemed to put people on edge. They were a political party just like every other in the world, although of course their means of gaining control were a little more radical than most people's.

Their actions mirrored those of the original Nazi organization; they went around killing off demigods of minors and lesser gods. Most of the time it ended up being a group that couldn't defend themselves — like children of Dionysus for instance. He couldn't count how many of those suckers he had murdered in the past year.

Decker glanced up at Adele and marveled at the expression of terror she wore on her face. He was the same person that she was trying to seduce ten minutes ago and now she was looking at him like he had just crawled out of the deepest pits of Tartarus. For some reason crawling into Tartarus was sounding more and more appealing to him.

"If that's true that means that you're—,"

Decker quickly cut her off. "What do you say I order you a drink?"

"I would never have a drink with someone like you — you're the reason my brother is dead!"

That was his cue to leave. He stood up, pulled his jacket back on and grabbed his goggles. With a wave he was headed towards the door — of course Adele couldn't keep her newly acquired information to herself. On his way to the door she started screaming about how he was working as a spy for the Nazi army, which couldn't have been further away from the truth. Decker was two feet away from the door when a bulky hand gripped his. His eyes moved from the hand onto the large body of the bartender that now rested beside him. "Aren't you supposed to be serving drinks?"

The bartender, who happened to be a son of Hypnos, didn't respond; instead he pulled out a five foot long sword composed of Celestial bronze. A low chuckle managed to escape Decker's mouth as he took a step back to avoid the horrible aimed slash that had been directed towards his head. His hand found its way to the black revolver that rested on his hip and within a matter of seconds three stygian iron bullets were lodged in the bartender's head. Decker's lips curled into a smile as he watched the corpse fall. There was something about the fresh smell of blood that really got his adrenaline pumping.

He took notice of the multiple people that stood around him and a sigh. "I really don't have time to play with all of you; I have some where to be."

With that being said shadows began to slowly coil around his body, he flashed a final grin to Adele before vanishing into the darkness. Of course, it wouldn't have been polite if he hadn't given everyone in the cabaret something to remember him by. Lying on top of the bar was a red arm band with a swastika in the center. He decided to leave the band behind because it represented him moving on from his past life. However, even if he didn't want to be associated the army he still enjoyed the fear that the mark struck in the hearts of others.

Decker resurfaced about two hours later somewhere outside of the Berlin city limits. He stood on top of one of the buildings that had recently come under Nazi control — when he was younger Berlin was his favorite city to visit. The people, women, and beautiful colors all attracted him in his younger days. Now at the age of twenty-one, he really didn't care for it. His hate of colors came from his days down in the underworld with Persephone and his father. When you're forced to stare at gray marble walls and trees that grow jewels for most of your life colors grow to be annoying.

"_You weren't forced to stare at anything! We were helping you learn to obey orders._"

"_Of course, turning my legs into roots and planting me in the garden really helped me gain a sense of authority." _

Persephone was about to say something that would start a mental argument but the sound of footsteps silenced her. Decker glanced down at the streets to find a team of soldiers marching into the deserted section of Berlin. Judging from the blue uniforms they wore he could tell exactly who they were.

_Americans_.

The son of Hades crouched down and tried to hide in the shadows. He was at the top of several most wanted lists across the world — either they were here to take him captive _or _America had decided to invade Germany. Seeing as how America had entered the war three years ago either of the two was reasonable. When he saw the gleam of a Celestial bronze dagger he was sure they were demigods.

"This is where his aura is strongest," one of the soldiers said. He turned to his commanding officer. "Do you have any plans sir?"

John Parker stood with a cigarette in his mouth and a frown on his face. The last place he wanted to be right now was in the middle of Germany with a six man team — from the reports he had gotten about this place enemy demigods could appear from anywhere because most of them were children of the night. "Bring out the hellhounds."

The solider in front of him nodded before pulling two black marbles out of his back pockets. He placed the marbles on the ground and clapped his hands together. Slowly, he began to chant an incantation and before long two hellhounds that were as big as tanks stood on each side of him. After each hellhound was summoned he tossed a familiar red arm band into the air. Decker's eyes opened wide — it was _his _band. Those soldiers must've been tracking him since he first arrived in Berlin.

"_Had you just stayed with the army you wouldn't be in this situation._"

"_Shouldn't you be off somewhere fucking a college guy?_"

He was forced to ignore Persephone's string of Greek curses on account of the large hellhounds that were growling at him. Considering he was a son of Hades he should have been able to control the hellhounds but the solider that summoned them had complete authority. Decker raised his hands up in a form of mock surrender before moving slowly towards the edge of the building. "Calm down, Fido. I'm sure we can work this out."

The larger of the two hellhounds barked — _roared_ — at the son of Hades and lunged towards him. With a grunt Decker grabbed his revolver latched onto all the fur that he could, and wrestled the beast all the way to the ground. Most of the soldiers on the ground were surprised to see a large ball of fur hit the ground and burst into a cloud of yellow dust. In the middle of the hellhound remains (and the large crater that the beast had formed when it hit the ground) stood Decker. He was too busy sneezing to notice that the soldiers were closing in on every side of him — when he finished he glanced around with a smile. His eyes immediately locked onto the commander of the group and the two remaining hellhounds that stood beside him.

"Well, well if it isn't Herr John. After our last encounter in Italy I didn't think I'd see you again so soon. How've you been?"

After John's surprise trip to Germany he wasn't in the mood to have a pleasant conversation with the person that broke his _favorite _pistol a few years back. Instead he raised his hand and had his team move in towards their target. Decker's lips curled into grin — one thing he absolutely _loved _about John was the fact that he was completely against having fun. Most of the time when the son of Hades got into a fight he wanted his opponent to enjoy it as much as he did — John was nothing like that. He wanted nothing more than to get the fight over with and move onto the next mission like a good little military dog.

Decker raised his revolver up towards three of the oncoming soldiers and fired at their vital spots. One of them was more than likely a son of Hecate because when the bullets got within inches of his foes a green barrier appeared and stopped them cold. He arched his eyebrow and shook his head. "I can't believe you actually have someone who can use magic on your team. That doesn't seem fair at all."

Seeing as how the easy way wasn't going to work he decided it would be best to go the ghostly route. He stomped the ground with a grunt and watched with glee as shadowy figures arose from below the group of demigods — most of them screamed while they were being pulled into the darkness of the night by the only soldiers that would still obey his orders. Once all of the unimportant soldiers were gone Decker moved forwards towards John.

"What do you say you let me leave right now and I let your friends go?"

John sighed to himself, raised his hands to stop the hellhounds from moving, and pulled out the sword that rested on his hip. With a load groan he rushed forward towards Decker and brought his sword forward with a thrust. The son of Hades clapped his hands together and raised a wall of rock just in time and narrowly avoided having his stomach pierced by the sword. He placed both his hands on the wall and pressed forward — he watched as the wall flew forward, taking his foe with it.

The voice of his stepmother rang clear in his mind a few seconds later. "_You should so be thanking me right now._"

"_Excuse me? What did you do?_"

"_Who told your father to teach you how to control earth? I did._"

Decker shook his head and sighed. "_I really don't have time for this right now._"

He was just about to summon a shadow portal when the sound of ticking caught his attention. His eyes glanced around the ground and finally locked onto a small round ball that seemed to glow with a green light — Decker's eyes opened wide as the miniature bomb exploded and his body was bathed in a sea of green flames. John stood in silence with a smug smirk on his face.

"Greek fire bombs. Children of Hephaestus are really kicking some ass with the weapons."

Decker let out a loud scream as the green fire swirled around his body. Slowly the flames came together and formed a large glowing cage. Within a few seconds he was unconscious. Slowly shadowy portals began opening all around John as his subordinates were returned to the realm of the living. John grabbed his cigarette from the ground before placing it back in his mouth — once his soldiers were over their shock he raised his hand into the air. "Let's return to base. I'm sure Patrick will get a kick out of seeing his old _friend _again."

Ω


	2. Chapter 2

**_A/N: _Welp, here with are at the second chapter. Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter and all those who gave me a favorite. Also, am I the only person that enjoyed the Son of Neptune (only because Nico was there). In any case, I enjoyed writing this chapter because of the characters I was able to work into it. Thanks to my Mission to Marzipan and my personal assistant for helping me out. Enough of the frivolous conversation, enjoy. _  
><em>**

**Story of Dead Man **

_January 2, 1945_

Decker opened his eyes and found that he was sitting in a large black cage with bars on every side of him. He extended his hand out to touch one of the bars and instantly yanked it back because of the jolt of electricity that rocked through his entire body.

With a low groan he sat up and tried his best to ignore the pain that shot through his body when he did so. His eyes shifted from left to right as he took notice of the large chains that were connected to the four edges of the cage — he followed the chains all the way to the walls that were helping hold up his prison. It became clear that his captors didn't want him to be on the ground so they had his cage hoisted up into the air. He glanced down below his cage and found that there were four soldiers resting below him, each one wearing a blue uniform.

A rather annoying voice spoke to him and helped clear up any confusion he was having. "_You __were __captured_."

"_I__ never__ would__'__ve __guessed __that, __can __you __tell __me __where __I__ am_?"

"_An __American __Naval __ship__ some__where __outside __of __Germany.__I__ told __you __that __leaving__ that __leaving __the__ army __would __end __up __biting __you __in__ the __ass_."

The son of Hades ignored his step-mother because he wasn't in the mood to admit she was right. Right now his first priority would have to be getting the _Hades_ out of his cage. He reached down to grab his revolver only to find that it was missing and let out a loud groan because _not_ having his weapon would make this entire thing a lot harder.

Seeing as how he was hovering above the ground it would be impossible to summon any shadows because the soldiers would know about it. A light bulb went off in his head and a grin slowly began working its way onto his lips. His left hand extended out a few inches and very slowly started to tremble — he closed his eyes before exhaling a calm breath. Suddenly he was able to hear the moaning of the dead; it didn't take long for the moaning to turn into laughter. All that he had to do now was sit back and enjoy the show.

John Parker exhaled a cloudy breath before tossing his cigarette onto the ground/ He stomped it out and glanced around at his soldiers; he could tell from their expressions that they were dreading this just as much as he was. If it were up to him, he would've been at home with his wife enjoying the smiles of his daughter — instead he was stuck on a ship filled with mortals and demigods that seemed to always be at each other's throats. Had it not been for the fact that he got to fight Decker again, the entire trip would've been for naught. His eyes shifted up to his prisoner and he arched his brow because of the strange expression that the son of Hades wore — it wasn't a look of discomfort or anything. That son-of-a-bitch was wearing one of his demented grins. John glanced around trying to find out what was causing his sense of glee; he understood why when he heard one of his men yelp in surprise.

Captain Parker turned to find his soldier trying to fight against a skeleton soldier — the undead warrior wore a tattered Roman toga and held a _gladius_ in its hand.

John's eyes shifted from the first skeleton onto the other three that had started to rise out of the ground; then he placed his hand on the hilt of his sword and barked out a command. "Don't focus on the soldiers! Make sure the prisoner doesn't escape."

Decker heard the command and chuckled aloud — no matter how well-trained John's men were there was no way they'd be able to concentrate on him while the skeletons were hacking away at them. A plan had long since formed in his head; he raised his left hand and very slowly his shadow coiled around his body, cloaking him with darkness. All that was left now was for John to _think_ he had escaped.

Down below, the fighting had become deadly — thanks to the undead soldiers being, well, undead there was no way to kill them.

John was very slowly starting to become agitated. He kicked a soldier in the chest and glared over at Andy, a son of Hecate. "I want these things destroyed, _now_."

The son of Hecate nodded before clapping his hands together and chanting. Green energy began to swirl around the skeletons and in a matter of seconds they were collapsing into themselves. Captain Parker sheathed his sword and immediately proceeded to lower the cage down to the ground. Once it was within his reach, he inserted the key and yanked the door open with a fierce growl. "Where is he!"

"Sir," Andy started. "I can still feel his aura coming from inside of the cage."

John was about to open his mouth and was forced to stop when a fist rammed into his face. Everyone took a step back in surprise as Decker stepped out of the shadows of the cage — that is everyone except John, who was busy holding his nose and trying to stop anymore blood from gushing out. His lips were formed into a half smirk when he saw Decker's face. "That was clever, never expected someone like you to actually use tactics."

The son of Hades nodded in agreement. "I expected more from you, Herr John." With that being said, his left arm extended out and a black portal opened by his feet — the hilt of a sword rose up out of the ground.

Decker gripped the hilt before pulling the wicked black sword out; it was composed entirely of Stygian iron. It was a blade that Decker had made himself during his training in the Underworld — a weapon that would one day become the trademark of another, future son of Hades who was, right now, just a babe in arms.

He utterly hated using the sword because he felt it should've only been used when fighting against an immortal; nevertheless he figured John would admire his sword skills. When the first soldier ran in Decker was there to meet him half way. He ducked a slash and sent the blade right into the poor kid's torso. A light blue covered the sword as it proceeded to absorb its victim's soul — very slowly the blade seemed to get sharper as he pulled the blade out and allowed the soldier's dead body to fall at his feet. "So much for him."

If there was one thing that got under John Parker's skin it was losing a comrade — he gritted his teeth and rushed in towards his prey. When he was half way there he felt something coil around his leg; he glanced down briefly to find that his shadow was slowly starting to swallow him whole. His eyes shifted onto his soldiers to find that most of them were suffering a similar fate. Decker ran past them and waved as he charged for the door.

John gritted his teeth, placed a finger into his ear, and spoke with so much venom it would've killed a king cobra. "The prisoner has escaped; I want this entire ship under full lock down!"

Every speaker boomed with John's words and every soldier armed themselves with a sword and an enchanted flashlight just in case Decker decided to summon any shadows.

While Decker's enemies were preparing for battle he was just trying to find a way off the ship. He turned a corner and was greeted left and right by soldiers. He managed to escape most of them without killing them and eventually found his way to a flight of stairs that lead to the top of the ship. If he could make it off the boat he might be able to find his way to Berlin and give living a normal life a chance. "_You__'__ll __never__ have __a __normal __life_."

Decker walked up the stairs and was greeted by the sight of about five other Navy ships. The sound of footsteps echoed in his ears and he turned around to find a familiar face holding a gun in his direction. His body turned to meet the figure and a wide frown crept onto his lips. "Marcus, I really don't have time to deal with you. What is it?"

Marcus was a twenty-three-year-old soldier (if we're going simply off appearances, add about eight hundred years if you want his real age) with shaggy brown hair and a pair of light brown eyes. In his hands he held a long sword (that would've made Ares jealous) and a shield in the other. His jaw was clenched in a mixture of aggravation and displeasure — he _really _didn't feel like being awake at almost three in the morning to hunt down someone that had been evading him for almost three years now. However, he was a soldier first and he would accomplish his mission without a complaint. "Your head mostly, I owe you for what you did to Zoë back in Russia."

The son of Hades glanced at out the large river that rested beside him — if he could make it into the water he _might_ have a chance to escape. But he could tell just by looking at Marcus that running away wouldn't be an option at all so, with that in mind, he spun his sword and motioned his opponent forward.

Marcus rushed towards him before aiming the tip of his sword right at Decker's head; his foe quickly brought up his sword and blocked the attack. If he had to pick _one_ thing that he hated about Marcus it would be the simple fact that, unlike most fighters in the mortal army, he used a shield — now Marcus slammed his shield right against Decker's body and sent him sliding backwards.

Once Decker was far enough back, Marcus rushed forward and raised his sword up over his head with the intention of either slicing Decker's head open or knocking him out; whichever he chose it would give his opponent a splitting headache when woke up.

Decker brought his sword up and blocked the attack again; this time, however, he thought it would be best to call in a few friends to assist him. He stomped the ground and shadowy hands slowly began to edge their way up Marcus' body.

"You dirty son-of-a-bitch! This is why I _hate_ children of the night." Marcus brought his shield up and pushed away Decker's sword; with a loud grunt he stabbed his sword into his own shadow and watched as the hands vanished off his body. He glared up just in time to see Decker slash at his shoulder blade — when the sword made contact with his body he felt as if a piece of his essence was ripped away.

Decker gave his sword another spin and smirked at the dim glow that was covering it, which was starting to cover his body. Stygian iron was _the _best weapon ever created — not only did it get sharper with each slash it made in anyone with soul, it also helped to replenish the user's body if they were experienced enough to manipulate it.

Now that he had a small ounce of his energy restored Decker figured that it was time to call in some help from beyond the grave. He stabbed his sword into the ground before snapping his fingers — boney hands began to erupt from underneath his feet and slowly crawled out of the ground. His fingers gripped hold of his sword and his smirk grew wider as five soldiers crawled out of the ground and stood around him.

"Looks like I've got you beat Marcus. You can let me go now and I'll forget about this entire thing."

The young Sergeant Major glared at Decker before gripping hold of his sword and yanking it out of the ground. "Fuck you."

Decker sighed before shrugging his soldiers and nodding to his soldiers. Each of the undead ran forward and started slashing away at any part of Marcus they could find. For a brief second the son of Hades thought he was in the clear — he had every intention of hopping off the boat until a loud clap of thunder echoed in his ears. His face dropped instantly when he saw a shield slam into the body of one of his soldiers. The familiar sound of footsteps echoed in his ears and he turned to find a blonde haired male standing behind him in a blue captain's suit. Almost instantly his eyes softened and he bit his lip.

Patrick Sterling stood silently in front of Decker with a solemn look on his face. Sparks of electricity danced over his clothes — he yanked his hand backwards and his shield flew back to his hand. Marcus growled in frustration. "Next time you fly in and save someone try not to aim your shield at their head."

Pat glared at Marcus with his good eye before returning his attention to Decker. He returned his shield to the position on his arm before moving in with a loud scream; Decker ducked down and managed to avoid the punch that was aimed at his head before sending the tip of his sword up towards Patrick's stomach. A strong wind picked up and sent the son of Jupiter sliding backwards. Decker stood to his feet and the two seemed to be having an old- fashioned stare down while Marcus was busy trying not to cut by a skeleton. "It seems you've actually learned how to manipulate the winds. I'm proud."

"After you ripped out my eye, I figured pouring my anger into controlling my powers would be the best thing to do. Lupa always said anger was power."

The two rushed in at each other and clashed with everything they had. Each time Decker's sword clashed against Patrick's shield, Aegis, tendrils of yellow energy seemed to simmer through the air. Neither of them seemed to be giving an inch at first, but then Patrick finally managed to get the son of Hades right at the edge of the ship.

Decker flashed a wild grin. He kicked his foe back before jumping off the ship and plummeting towards the wide mass of water below. Both his hands came together and he tried to focus on the earth that rested underneath the water — after a few seconds of concentrating (and praying to his father) a column of black rock erupted out of the ground. He landed with a thud before glancing up at Patrick who was currently standing on the edge.

"This is where I take my leave. Nice seeing you gentlemen again." Shadows curled out of the black pillar and started to coil around Decker — he would've made it away had it not been for the lightning bolt that struck him in the chest and sent him flying. The son of Hades landed in the water — his body had smoke curling off of it and there was blood pooling up in his mouth. He was pretty sure that his clothes were singed which _really_ pissed him off because he loved his suit.

His eyes shifted up to the sky where Patrick was flying and it became painstakingly obvious to him that he wouldn't get out of this without a fight. With that in mind Decker moved underwater to avoid getting hit with anymore lightning.

"_What __exactly __are __you __planning?_"

"_I__'__m__ not __at __all __sure,__ any __suggestions, __oh-wise-one?_"

"_You__ could __ask __for __some __help._"

The thought of asking his step-mother for help made his stomach curl. Instead of begging like a dog he extended his hand towards the river floor and forced up another column of rock. He took in a few solid breaths before pulling his sword out of the water — he didn't have a clue on how to take down Patrick because the bastard was flying and could summon lightning to strike him down whenever he pleased.

That was when this deviously genius idea popped into his mind; if he couldn't take down Patrick he could at least destroy all of his comrades. Both of his hands extended out and his body began to tremble — his eyes rolled to the back of his head as all of the color drained from his face. Each ship seemed to get simultaneously struck by a thick wall of rock; some of the rocks shot straight up from the bottom of the ship while others shot out from the sides.

Patrick glanced back in shock as he watched his ship slowly begin to sink. He glared at Decker who was already starting to disappear in a veil of shadows — he flew down towards him in attempt to catch him only to get there a few seconds too late. Electricity sparked around his shield as he slammed it down into the column and sent sparks of lightning arcing through the air. Not only had he let his foe escape but he also let everyone inside of the ship drown. His eyes glanced up at his ship and he sat silently watching as people jumped into the water for safety. Pat had never felt like more of a failure. There was no way in hell that his father would be proud of him now.

Decker resurfaced inside the town of Ypres and immediately collapsed. Overusing his powers had nearly killed him.

The familiar sound of footsteps rang clear in his ears — he glanced up to find the tip of an arrow being pointed directly at his forehead. His eyes widened when he recognized the person that was gripping the bow for dear life and the group of people that stood behind her. "Oh this is just fan_fucking_tastic!"

The person that was holding the bow was none other than one _very _pissed off Zoë Nightshade.

Ω


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Greetings and salutations. Here we are at the third chapter of a story that started as one shot and managed to become something bigger. In any case, if you're still reading this wonderful fic thank you so much. I really am proud of this chapter because, well, I think it shows how I'm getting better as a writer. This fic is rather short for what I normally do and that's because the next chapter will be _really _long. As always, thanks to my Beta and my assistant Will, for inspiring the story. Enough of me, get to the good stuff. **

**Story of a Dead Man**

_January 3, 1945_

Persephone cocked her head side ways in a quizzical manner as she glanced at her step-son. Her eyes shifted around the darkness that lay before her and she couldn't help but to shiver. Decker's mind was almost as cold as the Underworld. While it was true that she hated almost every demigod child of Hades that was ever born (or demigods in general for that matter) she felt a soft spot in her heart for Decker. It might've been the fact that she helped raise him from infancy or it could've been because she knew how hard Hades was on him — whatever the reason he was her favorite step-child. The confines of Decker's mind began to shift and the two were soon standing in an all gray marble hall that resembled one of the corridors in Hades' palace. Decker leaned back against the wall before exhaling a cold breath. "Why did you bring me here?"

Persephone shrugged her shoulders before taking a seat on the throne of vines that had sprouted out of the ground. "I want to know the real reason why you left the army."

He rolled his eyes. "We've been over this — living the life of a military dog wasn't for me."

"_Bullshit_," his step-mother spat. "You were _raised_ to live that type of life. It's all you know."

Decker opened his mouth and quickly bit his tongue because he knew in his heart that she was right. Hades had him trained under some of the most aggressive fighters ever to walk the Earth. People like Mark Anthony and the Amazon Queen Otreta were regulars in the house of Hades. He shifted his eyes away from Persephone and locked onto a tree that was sprouting rubies — anything was better than meeting the gaze of his step-mother.

"Is it because you don't feel like you can live up to his expectations?" the goddess asked quietly.

"That's the last thing I'm worried about." Decker countered. "I've met all of his expectations. Thousands of demigods have died by my hands and it's all been for him."

"Then what is it? You've earned his respect; what else could their possibly be?"

He slammed his hand against the back wall. "It has nothing to do with my father; I couldn't care less about what he thinks of me. Now what _history _has to say about me is a different story."

Her brow arched up. "What do you mean 'history'?"

"Have you ever read any of the Greek myths? There has never been a story about a child of Hades that has ever been positive — we're either overlooked or evil."

Persephone waved her hand as if telling him to continue.

"I want them to write something positive about me when I die and right now all I can see is '_Decker Ingram, he killed lots of people. The end.__'_"

Now it was all making sense to her. Decker was afraid of not being remembered — not having anything that set him apart from all the other children of Hades that had been born and tossed aside by history. That was the real reason he left the army, because he didn't want to be remembered as a murderer. "What are you planning on doing to erase your sins?"

He snickered. "I could give a damn about _my _sins. There isn't a doubt in my mind that I'll have to suffer in the Fields of Punishment and I've accepted that. However, I don't want anyone that comes after me to have to pay for what I've done."

A portal composed of shadows appeared behind him.

"This'll probably be the last time I see you, so, I suppose I should say thanks for everything you've done."

With that being said he turned from his step-mom and headed back towards consciousness. He had been running away for so long that actually walking into one of his problems felt good — he could feel Persephone's eyes cutting through him like hot knives through butter as he stepped the portal. The last thing that he heard her say as he vanished into the shadows was "_Good luck_."

Decker's eyes shot open and he tried to remember where in the name of holy _Hades _he was. His eyes glanced around and the one thing that instantly stood out to him was the large silver wolf that was glaring him down — that's when it all came rushing back to him. He was being held captive in the camp of Artemis and her somewhat delusional hunters. That helped him realize that he was in deep shit — the hunters were not some of his biggest fans. It might've had something to do with the fact that he tried killing a good number of them a few years ago in Russia or it could've just been because he was a boy.

"Seems like you're finally awake," a voice said from the shadows. Decker glared in the direction from which the voice came because the harsh tone was all too familiar.

"Nice to see you again, Nightshade. I thought after our last meeting in Russia that you might've died."

The daughter of Atlas snarled and slapped Decker so hard he almost forgot his name. She turned away from him before pacing around the tent. Decker could tell from the look in her eyes that she was having a really hard time trying _not _to kill him — Artemis must've given specific orders to keep him alive.

"Where is Artemis? Shouldn't she be here passing judgment on me?"

Zoë lashed out again and punched him in the face. For some strange reason she didn't like the way he said the name of her mistresses and decided that was a good enough reason to attack him. The son of Hades on the other hand felt as if her actions were highly barbaric and had to bite his tongue to keep from saying anything that would've got him hit again. Instead of talking back he started trying to find a decent means of escape — he tried summoning a shadow but found that only drained him of the little energy he had left.

"Seems like your last run in with Marcus took a lot out of you," Zoë said smugly.

Decker's browed arched up. "That almost sounded compassionate; please tell me that you're not going soft."

Zoë didn't respond. Instead she slammed her fist into the ground (and left a nice sized hole) before heading out of the tent. She figured it would be best to leave Decker alone with the wolves — maybe they'd get hungry and start taking bites out of him. To be honest she wasn't really worried about him trying to escape — his energy was gone and there was no way in Artemis's great name that he could outrun all of the hunters at once. All she had to do was keep him trapped until her mistress came back from Olympus to get rid of him once and for all.

Decker hated feeling as if he had been backed into a corner — his mind began wandering back to when he was a young child and the one thing he did whenever he felt anxious. He closed his eyes tight and exhaled quietly. "_Help me father_."

At first there was nothing, no sign that his father would help and honestly Decker wouldn't have blamed him. After all he was disobeying Hades's orders and would probably be considered the first traitor to the house of Hades. However, that didn't stop a large black pillar from erupting out of the ground and breaking through the tent above Decker's head. The son of Hades would've been surprised by the act had it not been for the vines that were intertwined with the large rock (had he mentioned how much he _loved _his step-mom?). Lying at the base of the stalagmite was Decker's sword, his revolver, and a piece of ambrosia pie.

Once he devoured the ambrosia and broke free of his binds, he placed his sword on his hip and made sure his revolver was loaded. He could hear the hunters screaming from outside the broken tent and knew for a fact that they would be hard to escape from. Of course that didn't stop him rushing out of the tent with a large grin on his face — he could see the moon shining high within the sky which meant that the night was still young.

"Stop him immediately!" barked Zoë Nightshade. She was firing arrows as fast as she could summon them — she wasn't going to let Decker get away even if it meant she had to break both of his legs with her bare hands. Decker ducked an arrow that was heading in his direction before raising his revolver and firing a shot at one of the hunters. The poor girl didn't have a chance as the bullet flew through her leg and sent her falling to the ground — all of the hunters stood as silence when their comrade fell. One of the girls, Phoebe, drew her sword and charged Decker with a growl.

If there was one thing that Decker loved about being a son of Hades it was how easy controlling shadows were at night — a shadowy tendril shot out of the ground and coiled around Phoebe's leg. With a snap of Decker's fingers she got slammed face first into the ground.

"How dare _thee_!" Zoë screeched as she charged him. There was no more waiting for Artemis — she was going to kill this undead son-of-a-bitch once and for all. She pulled her sword backwards and sent the tip straight towards Decker's throat. Shadows solidified in front of the son of Hades and stopped the attack cold. Decker raised his revolver before pointing it at Zoë's forehead. "If anyone gets a step closer I'm blowing her brains out."

All the hunters stopped moving. "Lower all your weapons to the ground."

His demands were met instantly. All of Zoë's comrades dropped their bows and took a few steps back to give Decker room to move. Decker began taking slow steps forward and probably would've made it safely had it not been for the silver chariot that zoomed over his head. The last time Decker saw Artemis was back in Russia — he really wasn't in the mood to fight a deity (especially not the goddess of the moon in the middle of the night) so running was his only option. He pushed Zoë Nightshade to the ground and zoomed off into the darkness of the forest that surrounded the hunters' camp.

Shadows were already starting to reach out for his attention and a grin played on his face when a loud scream rang out through the night.

"Sounds like Artemis might be upset that I beat her hunters _again_," Decker said as shadows began to coil around his body. Artemis appeared in a flash of blinding silver light just as the son of Hades disappeared. Her silver eyes seemed to study the spot in where Decker vanished with a strange intent — a quiet gasp sprang forth from her lips when she saw the face of a girl within the shadows. Now she knew exactly how she would get back at Hades for all the grief his son had caused her.

"_Bianca di Angelo_," she said quietly.

Decker reappeared in the middle of East Prussia in front of a large black building that had Nazi banners hanging on the front. He thought it was best to disappear into the shadows to make sure that if any soldiers were around they wouldn't be able to spot him. Once he was inside the Nazi headquarters he realized that it would probably be in his best interest to change clothes — there was no way he could get around any guards with signed clothes. Thankfully, he found a closet close to the entrance and managed to get himself a fresh black suit. With a nostalgic sigh he pulled the hat down over his head and the red band up on his arm. It was just like old times.

Now that he was properly dressed he could walk around among the soldiers as if he were one of them. He saluted everyone he came across before finally coming to a stop at a room with a large black door that had the word "_Fuhrer_" plastered across the top. A shadow portal appeared in front of Decker as he pulled out his revolver. His body moved forward and he stepped through the portal without an ounce of hesitation.

A demented man by the name of Adolf sat at his desk filling out paperwork and trying to figure out where he wanted the next air strike to be. The Nazi commanded picked up a glass of water and was about to take a sip until he saw the reflection of a black figure in his glass — he dropped the glass and turned to find there was nothing behind him. Maybe it was his mind playing tricks on him again; after all he had been having visions recently of a man in a black suit telling him to be cautious. He turned back to his work to find the end of a gun being pointed at his head.

"_How did you get in here?_" the Fuhrer demanded.

Decker didn't respond, he simply placed his finger on the trigger and prepared to pull. However, he never got the chance. Water began spouting out of the ground and began pooling all around Decker's feet — the son of Hades tried to move only to find that the water was holding him in place. Very slowly the liquid began surging upward like a miniature geyser — once he was soaked from head to toe the water spread out around him and formed a huge bubble. A loud growl came from inside the bubble as Decker tried his best to break out of it. Sadly his efforts were all for naught as shadows began swirling around inside the bubble — he let loose one more growl before he vanished.

Adolf Hitler sat with a dazed look on his face. He wasn't exactly sure how to explain what the hell just happened; all he knew is that he would live to see another day. There was something good that came out of his assassination attempt however, and that was the plan to start using the darkness to conceal his soldiers. Adolf stood to his feet, put his cap on, and headed out to tell his soldiers of the new plan of attack with a smirk covering his face.

Ω


End file.
